When did the diamonds leave your bones? {Closed - Nomad} (M)

[Aemilia Florus]

"Are you all mad?" She glanced around at the eager faces staring back at her. "Do you honestly forget your history lessons?  Do you not recall the horrors those people did to ours? The sheer hate they hold for us?" Her voice had jumped an octave or two.
They were mad. Totally bonkers. Suicidal, even. There was no other possible explanation for what they wanted to achieve.
"Travelling through the Tirrin Mountains is one thing. Crossing the Connlaoth border is a death wish."
"Come on, Aemilia. Nobody knows those mountains like you do. You don't even need to cross the border. Just wait for us to come back and take us home. It's easy money."
The girl scrutinised her friend. "Why, though?"
The boy shrugged his shoulders. "Why not?"
She sighed heavily and dropped her head. She was going to regret this.


And she did. The last few hours were a blur. Hours or was it days? Everything hurt. Her tongue was thick and her throat was dry. Her limbs were heavy and restrained. Why did it hurt so much?

Groggily, she forced her eyes open. Someone had positioned her against a cold brick wall. Her arms had been chained above her head. Iron, no doubt. That made things increasingly difficult. Serenians were essentially allergic to the metal. It sapped whatever magic power they possessed and caused excruciating pain. Her legs were also bound with thick chains, wrapping along the length of them. Overkill, perhaps. There was only one type of people who were this paranoid about magic.

The Connlaothians.

She groaned and rested her head on the stone behind her. What had happened? Everything was fuzzy. An ambush. A fight. There had been blood. A lot of it. A beheading when her colleagues fought back. She squeezed her eyes shut. She didn't want to remember. Although, capturing her seemed a little bizarre. It would be considered an act of war if the Adelans learnt of it. Whilst she wasn't at the top of the hierachy, she had contacts. Maybe that's why she was saved. The likelihood of that wasn't realistic. Perhaps, the Connlaothians just wanted to stir the pot.

The shrill sound of metal on brick pulled Aemilia from her musings. It was too dark in the room to make out her visitors until they approached. Even then, her head throbbed and vision swam a little. Now that she was conscious, she was reminded of how much her body was suffering.It was two men. The taller appears to be in charge. In his left hand was a whip, and his right didn't leave his sword hilt. He said something in Connlaoth, but she wasn't familiar enough with the language to translate. The second man then spoke.

He was a weasel of a man.

"Commander Petrov hopes you find your room comfortable enough." He said in Old Serenian. Aemilia stared at him incredulously, but he continued. "You should be grateful. He could have killed you. He could have given you to his men to have their way with you. He's even assigned you guards to keep you safe."
"How dare you speak our sacred tongue with your filthy mouth." She spat.

The Commander smirked. When he reached out to touch her face, she recoiled desperately, but realised she had no where to go. This seemed to amuse him more. In a swift movement, he'd wrapped his hand around her neck and was squeezing.

And just like that, the torture of Aemilia Florus had begun.

[Nomad]

Holding onto her neck, Petrov grins as he begins to squeeze her neck to the point where he would be cutting off her air. As he begins to squeeze her neck he keeps her pinned against the wall behind her. As he holds onto her neck, keeping her pinned to the wall behind her he gazes into her eyes, the grin upon his face slowly growing as he looks at her. " Is something the matter my dear? Do you find my hospitality lacking. Perhaps I can bring you a bed and some blankets, would that help? " Petrov asks as he gazes into her eyes, his grip on her neck slowly increasing. It was clear he was enjoying the torment he is putting Aemilia through, his tone and demeanor making it easily seen though he made no attempt to hide the fact that he was enjoying himself even though he was hardly doing anything to her.

Finally after a moment longer of holding onto her neck he releases his hold on her, pulling his hand back away from her neck slowly. Though he wanted to torture her he had no intention in killing her, that wouldn't be any fun for the man. " I think it's time we begin. " He says as he brings his hand up to touch her face as he had tried to do before. " And you are going to tell me everything I want to know. " He says as he pulls his hand away from her cheek, letting it fall back to the hilt of his sword. " So tell me, what were you doing crossing the border illegally? Looking for a safe rout to sneak mages out? " Petrov asks, his gaze remaining fixed on Aemilia. With the question, the other man with Petrov translates it so she would know what he is asking.

[Aemilia Florus]

Aemilia had never been subjected to treatment such as this. Serendipity was a peaceful land. The violent situations she had managed to get herself into could be solved with a little bit of Nymph magic or some fancy sword work. Clearly, neither of those was going to help in this situation. Her blood boiled with hatred as he patronized her. The things she would do to this man once she was free. If she was ever free. At this rate, the fellow would kill her before the night was over.

Just as her vision was clouding over, his fingers left her neck. She gasped for air, the oxygen rattling back into her lungs. Bile rose in her throat as he caressed her cheek. The poor women that man bedded must suffer. Intentions as cruel as his are often more prominent in intimate physical moments. Once again, the translator piped up.

Aemilia glared at Petrov. She wasn't entirely sure on how to respond. On one hand, she hated to give him the satisfaction of an answer. On the other, what else would he do to her in search of knowledge. Realization dawned on her at the mention of mages. He thought the Serenians were trying to rescue mages. It made sense really. If she was in his position, she might assume the same. Was this man really ready to go so far? People feared what they did not know, but most Connlaothians didn't want the knowledge. They'd prefer to stay ignorant, terrified and racist towards their neighboring lands. Sad, really.

"Why don't you ask my companions?"

As soon as the words flew from her mouth, she knew it wasn't a wise move. This was going to be painful.

[Nomad]

With his question, Pretrov listens as Aemilia spoke up though he could not understand a thing she was saying which frustrated him to some degree. Turning his gaze from Aemilia, he glances to the translator for a brief moment as the man translates what she had said so Pretov would know. With her answer Petrov nods his head faintly to what she had said " If you do not wish to talk that is fine. I have ways of changing your mind. " He says, still grinning as he looks at the woman. With his comment he brings his hand up from his side, raising it into the air before he draws it back. Drawing his hand back he pauses for a brief moment before bringing his hand forwards quickly and slapping her across the face.

After hitting her he lets his hand drop back to his side, resting on the hilt of his sword once again. " Now, shall we try this again. What were you doing crossing the border? " He asks, this time the translator takes a moment to translate what Petrov had asked her. With the question Pretrov remains silent as he waits for an answer, though he did not expect to get the answer he was searching for. She seemed like a fighter which meant he was going to have a rather enjoyable time breaking her and bending her to his will. Petrov keeps his gaze fixed on her face for a moment before it begins to drop, slowly lowering as he takes a moment to glance over her physical features, a gesture he does nothing to hide.

[Aemilia Florus]

Aemilia had never been slapped by a man before. It was a new albeit unpleasant feeling. She began to understand why women hated the Connlaothian soldiers. Everybody knew the stories, but now she was getting a first hand experience. She ran her tongue over her lips and tasted blood. Whether it be defiance, pride or sheer stupidity, she kept her mouth shut. There wasn't any information she could give Petrov to please him. He would always want to know more. As soon as she cracked, the torture would probably become more intense. Not that she had any information to give him. Maybe that was what her friends had been planning. They wouldn't be the first to entertain the idea to save the world. Thing was, most people who played hero ended up dead. This left Aemilia in a bit of a pickle. Tell the truth, die. Tell lies, die. Don't talk, die. Tough choice really.

His gaze felt hungry as he surveyed her body. She had never felt so cheap in her life. The feeling was probably normal among sex workers. Instinctively, she went to cover herself. The iron dug into her wrists and caused her to wince. The metal burned into her skin. It was going to take a hell of a lot of mental power to resist Petrov.

"Felt like it," she smirked with a one shouldered shrug. Petrov was the sort of man who wanted to play games. If she kept him interested, her life was guaranteed for a little longer. Even if she was in an unimaginable amount of pain.  She was probably the only one of her companions alive. Nobody knew where she was going or now where she was. Captured by a psychopathic Connlaothian with a taste for twisted torture and abuse. The outlook was looking pretty bleak.

"You seem rather concerned about these mages. What's wrong? I thought the Connlaothians knew how to control magic."

For dramatic affect, she gathered a little remaining power. She was gifted with Glamour. It was still a young power and she had barely started learning it. Her eyes flitted from blue to solid white then back. It lasted only a second, but it was enough to cause a ripple of disgust and fear across Petrov's face. She chuckled softly, taking immense pleasure in whatever discomfort she could cause him.

"Who's afraid of the big, bad Mage?"

[Nomad]

As she spoke Petrov listens to her, though he did not know what she was saying, his gaze still shifting over her physical features. Slowly he brings his gaze back up to her face, the man with him translating what she was saying. Petrov found she was not giving him the answers he wanted but rather beating around the bush and making light of the matter. With the use of her magic on him, for a brief moment a look of disgust and fear took form on Petrov's face before it quickly faded as he listens to her chuckle. Her use of magic causing his gaze to narrow before he begins to glare at her. Again the man with him translates what she has to say, teasing him about a fear of mages. She was pushing his buttons, causing Petrov to grow even more angry at the lack of answers coming from his prisoner.

Lifting his hand from the hilt of his sword he clinches it tightly into a fist before thrusting it forwards, punching her in the stomach. He put a good deal of force behind his strike, hitting her in the stomach before pulling his hand back. After punching her in the stomach he brings his hand up and grabs her by the hair, roughly pulling on her hair. Holding her by the hair he leans in closer to her, his face only resting an inch or so from her face. " And why would I be afraid of a piece of garbage like you. " he says as he gazes into her eyes once again. " Where were you meeting with the mages to sneak them out? " he asks, keeping a tight grip on her hair, pulling in it as he held her head in place. The man with him translated both his statement and question.

[Aemilia Florus]

Angering him definitely wasn't the way to go about things. Aemilia should have knew better. This was an angry man, driven by fear and probably a little insanity. His fist connected with her stomach and drove the air from her body. The next few seconds were unimportant to the girl as she gasped for breath. She imagined she looked similar to a fish on land. No doubt he had cracked a rib or two with that swing.

His fingers were tangled in her hair, lifting her from the ground. A stifled cry escaped her lips. Letting him know he was hurting her wasn't part of the plan. Petrov was no stranger to treating prisoners like this. He had no remorse, no guilt flitted through his expression. What if he had found someone who actually knew something? The horrors they would have been subjected too was almost too hard to think about. For them and for her friends, she would make this man believed she carried secrets. Secrets she would die before spilling. The more desperate a man was, the more careless he become. He would leave clues, be obvious, and it was only a matter of time until his actions were discovered by the Adelans. At least, that's what she told herself anyway.

Determination hardened her features and she locked gazes with him.

"I'll never tell you anything."

[Nomad]

As she spoke the translator with him translated what she said, something that pushed Petrov's buttons more. " Is that so.. " he murmurs lightly as he pulls on her hair more, " I do believe you will tell me everything I wish to know. " He adds before he releases his hold on her hair and takes a half step back to put a little space between them, the man with him translating what he had just said to her. Having taken a half step back Petrov again shifts his gaze over her physical features as he begins to ball his fist up, getting ready to hit her again. Again he thrusts his fist out, punching her in the stomach once again just as hard as he had done the first time though this one was in a different part of her stomach. He wanted to make her talk, not cause to serious of an injury to her, at least he did not want to hurt her to bad at the moment.

After the second hit, Petrov lets out a soft chuckle as he watches Aemilia " They all resist but in the end they tell me everything I wish to know. " he says with his gaze remaining fixed on her. Watching along with no problem, the man translates what he had just said so she would know.  " Why not make it easier on yourself and just tell me what I wish to know. " he says as he brings his hand into the air, drawing it back before he lets loose another strike. Like the first he slaps her hard across the face before he brings his hand up and grabs her roughly by the hair again, forcing her to look at him once again. " Though I do like how you are resisting. It makes my job so much more enjoyable and I promise it will only get more enjoyable as we go on. " He says as he gazes into her eyes once again. Again the man with him translates what Petrov had just said. As the man translates he brings the whip up in his free hand and prods at her stomach where he had already hit her twice.